


All Part of the Plan

by alwaysinmyheartlarry



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, American Football, Harry is a sophomore, Harry plays the trumpet, It's all fluff, Liam plays the tuba, Louis is a senior, M/M, Marching Band, larry stylinson - Freeform, there's a lot of fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-25
Updated: 2015-01-25
Packaged: 2018-03-09 02:30:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3232910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alwaysinmyheartlarry/pseuds/alwaysinmyheartlarry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry Styles is a member of the marching band who has an insane crush on Louis Tomlinson--the amazing senior who plays on the varsity football team at school.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All Part of the Plan

Harry sits on the bleachers, his fingers mindlessly pressing down the three valve stems on his trumpet, keeping his eyes stay locked on the field below him. He doesn’t need to pay such close attention to the game--in fact, most of the marching band members, including Harry’s friends, always talk to each other, keeping their backs toward the field for the duration of the time--but Harry always pays attention. Not necessarily to the game itself, but to the boy with the number 28 on his back, Louis Tomlinson.

Harry had never once had a class with Louis, being that he’s two grades below him, but they had a brief introduction during Harry’s biology lesson. It was custom for the AP bio kids to help the freshman biology students through the classic frog dissection. It was just Harry’s luck to be partnered with the well known and incredibly attractive football player, Louis Tomlinson. Even at the tender age of fourteen, Harry instantly knew what love felt like when his eyes set upon Louis that day.

The beginning of the dissection went smoothly for the two--they had smiled and laughed and Harry played it cool around the older boy. He was surprised at how remarkably easy it was to hold a conversation with Louis, only adding to his immediate infatuation with the senior.

He should have known, however, that these things never last long, because as soon as the frog was placed in front of the two boys with the sharp scalpel beside it, Harry had instantly passed out.

He’s realized now that he seems to have bit of a queasy stomach. He also realizes that he’s made a complete and utter fool of himself in front of his soon-to-be-husband--that is, if everything goes according to Harry’s plan that he’s yet to initiate due to the bundle of nerves in his stomach every time he glances at Louis.

 

It’s been a little over a year since the incident and Harry has been doing everything in his power to avoid Louis, yet secretly praying that he’d have another chance to redeem himself in front of his crush. That’s what Louis is in Harry’s eyes--a crush. Although, from an outside perspective, it’s more of an obsession. It’s a bit ridiculous actually, considering they haven’t held a proper conversation since the biology incident, and even then, it was more or less just small talk about frogs.

Regardless of that fact, Harry knows quite a substantial amount of information on the football player, no matter how little they’ve talked. He’s borderline stalker, though he’ll never admit to it. And he still continues to learn more about the boy as he stares at Louis out on the field, his thoughts in a trance as they all revolve around LouisLouisLouis. He can’t keep his eyes from roaming up and down his body that appears to be even more muscular underneath the paddings on his shoulders and legs. He has his hands on his hips, casually listening to his coach with his helmet wedged between his elbow and ribs. Harry thinks he looks hot just standing there, not having to look at his face or hear his voice.

This was one of the main reasons why Harry was thankful for joining the marching band this year. Of course, if anyone asked him why he decided to join, he’d easily tell them because he loves playing the trumpet. But, secretly, it was the fact that he could stare at Louis the entire time without worrying about being caught, and he definitely abuses that right as he spends a significant amount of time gazing at him from afar.

~~~

The game ended a little over an hour ago now. They had won and almost everyone is at the local diner in order to celebrate their school’s fifth victory in a row.

Harry sits on his trumpet case, fiddling with his fingernails as he waits for his sister to pick him up from the field. She was always a little late, but Harry thinks an hour past the pickup time is a tad ridiculous. He has tried calling her numerous times, but each time it has gone to her voicemail.

Harry sighs, accepting the fact that he’ll have to walk all the way home instead. He stands up, tugging at the uncomfortable strap underneath his chin that keeps his marching band hat safely secured to his head. Harry thinks it’s rather ugly, especially the feather on the top. It simply adds to the unattractive uniform that he’s forced to wear at every game. The shirt looks more like a bumble bee, in his opinion, with the yellow and black stripes, criss crossing over his chest and stomach, and his pants are always a little too short, resting well past his ankles when he sits down, but it was comfortable for the most part and for that he can’t complain.

The boy was just getting ready to make his way home when a hand is lightly placed on his shoulder. He jumps before whirling around to see none other than Louis Tomlinson standing before him. He sucks in his breath upon seeing his crush, trying to play everything cool.

“Hey, Harry. What are you still doing here?”

Harry stares at him, his eyes widening slowly because--Oh god, he remembers his name! A lazy smile spreads across Harry’s face as he replays Louis’ words over in his head. He likes the way his name plays out on Louis’ tongue. He likes the way Louis is making conversation with him. He likes that Louis is now dressed in some old sweatpants and a sweatshirt. He simply likes Louis.

And that’s a problem because he knows that his heart will take off racing and his hands will become clammy and he won’t be able to control himself from saying something stupid. He can already feel his pulse pacing faster and a small warmth spreading across his cheeks as he looks at the absolutely gorgeous boy in front of him. He stares at Louis’ eyes, enchanted by the azure color and the way his beautifully, long eyelashes curl upwards.

His eyes wander over the the football player’s body, admiring the way his shoes are slightly muddy from the rain that still clings to the grass, admiring the way his duffle bag with all his football stuff is slung over his shoulder, admiring the way his fringe is still wet from either a shower or his own sweat. Harry doesn’t know what would be better--Louis’ sweat or the fact that he was just naked in a shower not too long ago. Either way, he wants to reach out and touch the small drops that suspend from his hair.

“Are you alright?” Louis asks.

Harry’s face pales significantly as he realizes that he was blatantly staring at Louis like a complete creep. He starts to apologize profusely before the older boy simple laughs, cutting him off with a wave of a hand.

“No big deal, Harry. Do you have a ride home? The game has been over for quite some time now.” Harry barely shakes his head to which Louis motions with his hand to follow him. “Let me drive you home. I can’t let you walk home in the dark.”

Harry’s eyes widen at Louis’ request, slowly and hesitantly following the older boy to the parking lot. This cannot be happening--Louis is offering Harry a ride home? But he’s in the marching band. He plays the trumpet. He’s a fifteen year old sophomore and Louis is a senior. A cute, beautiful senior who plays on the varsity football team. This doesn’t happen in real life.  
Harry glances around him, wondering when someone will jump out and yell at him that he’s being pranked.

As they walk together, Harry’s breath starts to pick up pace. This is really happening. All his past fantasies and dreams are coming true. If he plays his cards right, he’ll have Louis wrapped around his finger by the end of the night, and from there everything will go according to his plan. Harry will propose and they’ll get married, and together they’ll move into a traditional home with a white picket fence in the front yard with red and pink flowers blossoming in the spring time. Time will pass and then they’ll decide that they’re ready to adopt a boat load of babies and together they’ll watch them grow up and get married and have kids of their own and then their traditional house with a white picket fence in the front will become quiet again with only him and Louis living in it. So, to make up for the sudden change in atmosphere, they’ll get a dog and watch their grandchildren grow up until they’re both old and gray with wrinkles on their skin. And they’ll become easily confused with all the new technology in the world and constantly forget things, but in the end it wouldn’t matter because they’ll be so in love with each other until death do them apart.

“You alright there, Harry?” Louis asks.

Harry shakes his head, removing all traces of his fairy tale. He takes an uneasy breath, willing away the inevitable blush on his checks.

“Oh...uh yeah. I’m fine.”

Harry allows himself to chuckle to relieve the awkward tension he has created in the air. Louis shares a laugh as well, playfully bumping Harry’s shoulder with his fist and oh god--his laugh is just marvelous to Harry’s ears.

‘Just keep it cool,’ Harry thinks. ‘Play it cool.’

Unfortunately for him, his breathing continues to become erratic as they walk towards Louis’ car, and suddenly, his vision becomes skewed and his hearing sounds distant. It only takes about twenty more seconds before Harry’s knees buckle and his vision to go completely black. He falls to the ground, landing right in a mud puddle.

Louis immediately runs to Harry’s side, frantically calling the younger boy’s name. He kneels beside him, pressing his hand against his forehead as he leans down close to his chest. He could feel short puffs of air against his skin as Harry barely breathes out of his mouth.

He’s still alive.

Louis lets out an exaggerated sigh of relief for both of them before hauling Harry off the ground in his arms. His head slumps against Louis’s shoulder and Louis tries not to sneeze from the feather that’s tickling his nose.

“Harry,” he whispers. “Please, wake up.”

He shifts Harry in his arms as he frantically takes in his surroundings. The older boy’s head is spinning as he tries to think of all the places he could get help. He looks towards the school, wondering if anyone would still be there. There’s no doubt that the nurse and medics have left by now and his coach is long gone. All of his fellow teammates have gone out to dinner.

Louis jogs to his car, quickly buckling Harry into the seat before running around to his side. He glances at the unconscious boy before speeding out of the parking lot and down the road. He breaks all the speed limits, but never cares enough to slow down because each time he glances at Harry’s position against the window, Louis’ heart hits his chest harder than before.

“Why do we always meet like this, huh?” Louis asks, pretending to hold a conversation with the kid in order to calm his nerves. “Is this your thing? Passing out on me?” He chuckles several times before his short giggles turned into quiet sobs. “Oh Harry, please wake up. We’re almost to my house. My mom will know what to do.”

 

~~~

Harry wakes up groggily a little while later. His head hurts as he tries to recall the events that had happened earlier. When he remembers, he groans, shaking his head back and forth to rid himself of the awful memory, his eyes are clenched tight in hopes they’ll slip from his mind.

This is the second time he has passed out when he was around his crush and he has no reason as to why he fell unconscious this time. He has no frog to blame it on, he has no biology experiment to lie about, he only knows the real truth--the truth that he was completely and utterly overwhelmed and excited with Louis’ presence that everything had become too much for him to handle--but he’s never ever going to tell Louis that, nor will he ever admit to it. He needs a believable story.

One of the trombones in the marching band accidentally hit him in the head? He was feeling ill all day and after sitting in the cold for a long time it played a toll on his health? The strap from his hat was too tight on his head that it prevented blood circulation to flow through his body appropriately?

Harry laughs at the last one, his hand absentmindedly going to fiddle with the cap. When he reaches up, he’s startled to feel a damp washcloth in place of his hat. He hesitantly pulls it off before immediately snapping his eyes open.

He’s in a room with blue painted walls and trophies littering the shelves. His breath catches in his throat as he takes in the unfamiliar surroundings, realizing that he’s in Louis’ bedroom. He sits up fast, feeling his head spin a little, but he isn’t sure if it’s from his previous state or because he’s sitting in the Louis Tomlinson’s room.

He takes in a deep breath, filling his lungs with Louis’ scent for the first time. It smells good, almost girly, but he figures that’s because he lives with so many sisters. He could get used to this scent every day. He would never get tired of it, although if things go right, he may become accustomed to the scent if he spends enough time with Louis. Harry smiles at the thought. That’s exactly what he wants to do--spend every single moment with the feathery haired boy.

Harry glances around the walls, taking in all the photos and posters hanging around the room before his eyes land on something familiar in the corner. It’s black and yellow with a feather poking out beneath it--his uniform.

His breathing falters for a second before he looks down at his own clothes and nearly jumps at the sight of him in Louis’ sweatshirt and pants. His face brightens at the thought that he’s practically his boyfriend already, seeing as he’s wearing one of his football hoodies. He hugs it closer to his body, inhaling deeply to smell the same vanilla scent mixed with his cologne he smelled earlier. He wonders if he could possibly sneak out of Louis’ house without giving it back to him.

“Oh! You’re awake.”

Harry whips around fast with a little yelp, a blush spreading from his cheeks down to his neck as he stares at the floor.

“I am. Er, thank you for taking care of me,” Harry says sheepishly. His fingers toy with the long sleeves as he avoids making eye contact, brushing his long hair in front of his face to hide his burning skin. “I’m sorry about that.”

Louis rests his hand gently on Harry’s thigh, trying to gain the younger boy’s attention. Harry has to bite back a gasp when his green eyes meet Louis’ blue, trying to contain his absolute blissful excitement, yet utter humiliation, to a minimum. He never seems to succeed in his plans, especially not when Louis is sitting right in front of him, looking worried and troubled, so close to Harry that he can see the small specks of green and gold in his eyes. He could definitely get use to the idea of close proximity with the older boy, though... maybe not seeing as though he’ll probably never stop losing his breath at the sight of Louis.

“You don’t have to be sorry. Things happen, life goes on. No need to be embarrassed, love.”

Harry looks back at his feet as Louis’ words spin on repeat in his head. Love. His face burns even more than it did before, but he can’t even focus entirely on it with all the little butterflies dancing in his stomach.

“Erm, I hope you didn’t mind that I changed your clothes for you,” Louis whispers nervously. “You fell in a puddle and I didn’t want you to get a rash from the wet clothes.”

Harry’s eyes widen immediately after hearing this new information. He should have known someone had changed him. It’s not like he had magically changed clothes by himself, but knowing that Louis had seen him without pants or a shirt on instantly makes him cringe. Louis probably thinks that he’s lanky and awkward looking. He was probably disgusted with his body. Louis is fit. Louis is strong. Louis has muscles. And Harry has nothing except pale skin and four nipples.

“Oh,” Harry forces out, small and quiet.

Louis places a finger under Harry’s chin, forcing him to look him in the eyes when he realizes that Harry has found a sudden interest in the carpet again. The younger boy didn’t miss the small spark that ignited in his bones when they touched. He shivers, his stomach doing backflips, coughing awkwardly into his hand in order to rid himself of the tension.

“Don’t be embarrassed, love. There’s nothing to be afraid of.”

Harry manages a small smile despite having a mini heart attack from his words and small touch. He probably would have passed out again with all this interaction with Louis, had Louis’ mom not walked into the room at that moment with two cups of tea in her hands--bless her.

“Harry, darling, how are you feeling? Is your head alright?”

He nods slightly before she sits beside the boys, handing them each their own glass of tea. Harry smiles behind his mug as this image spins around his head. Here he is, sitting in Louis’ bedroom, wearing one of his sweatshirts while drinking hot tea with the boy of his dreams and his mom, aka his future mother-in-law, but that’s beside the point. This must be a dream. This can’t possibly be real life.

“Oh I’m so glad. I called your mother to let her know that you’re safe. I told her that Louis will drive you home later, but I figured you should have something to drink first. Are you hungry? It’s almost dinner time, you’re absolutely welcome to join us for supper.”

Harry nearly chokes on his tea at the offer. He sputters and coughs embarrassingly and Louis jokingly pats his back. The younger boy’s face heats up again at the touch, and partly because he’s a proper mess, glancing up at the football player through his eyelashes. Louis stares back at him sincerely, trying to hide that awful smirk that Harry wants to hate so much, but he can’t help but fall in love with.

Seeing that he can’t even sip from a cup of tea, Harry is unsure whether he would be able to actually eat at the same dinner table with Louis. He’d probably end up choking on his food, be sent to the hospital, get drugged up, and then confess his fairytale love story to Louis. He’d rather not humiliate himself any further than he already has.

He shakes his head. “I would love to, Mrs. Tomlinson, but Fridays are pizza night at my house and my mom makes a mean pizza. I wouldn’t want to miss it.”

Harry stares down into his tea as he mentally groans at his excuse because--pizza night? He’s skipping an excuse to be with his future mother-in-law and sister-in-laws and husband to have pizza at home? What is he doing? He’s digging himself into a bigger hole--that’s what he’s doing.

Louis chuckles beside Harry, patting his thigh gently, and Harry momentarily forgets his lame excuse of going home when the boy’s fingertips touch his legs. His stomach clenches, his teeth grit together.

“That’s fine, sweetie. You don’t need to explain yourself. Louis, give Harry his clothes back and drive him home, yeah?”

Louis nods before helping Harry to his feet, feeling overly protective over the boy who still looks pale and uncertain. He wraps his arm around Harry’s waist, allowing more than enough support, and consequently making Harry squirm with delight.

Harry brushes his hair into his face, trying to conceal his red cheeks, yet again. He doesn’t think he’s ever blushed this much in his entire life. He keeps his gaze on his feet the entire time, only glancing up when he hears little giggles as Louis leads him passed the kitchen. He sees the four little girls looking at him, two waving shyly, the other hiding behind their hands. He smiles a little and even offers a short wave in return before looking back down at his feet.

~~~

The ride home was quiet with only the radio playing in the background. Harry shifts uncomfortably in his seats, squirming to say something but coming up short with what exactly to say.

“So,” Louis sighs when he pulls up to Harry’s house. “I’ll see you in school on Monday?”

Harry nods his head, smiling shyly. “Not unless I see you first.”

His head instantly snaps to stare at Louis with wide eyes before he covers his face with his hands, shaking his head. “God, I say the worst things,” he groans, earning a giggle from Louis.

“Well, I’ll make sure to look extra hard in the hallways so I can spot you before you see me.”

Harry lets out a loud, high pitched laugh, before quickly clasping his hands over his mouth with wide eyes. Louis only laughs before handing the curly boy his neatly folded band uniform.

Harry takes it graciously, opening the car door fast so Louis won’t see his idiotic smile plastered on his face with the sudden realization that he gets to keep Louis’ sweatshirt and pants for the night. He instantly knows that he’s going to be sleeping in these clothes for the next few weeks, and he hopes that Louis isn’t expecting to get them back anytime soon. He’ll cherish these clothes forever.

Louis honks the horn as Harry reaches his front door. He turns around and waves giddily on the front porch before stepping inside his home. He leans against the door, looking down at his uniform. He sees his hat, shirt, and pants, and something else that makes his heart stop.

He stares at it before dropping all the clothes at his feet and hastily pulling the waistband of his pants away from his hips to see if it’s true. And it was.

He wasn’t wearing the same underwear that he had on at the game. No, these were definitely someone else’s--Louis Tomlinson’s to be exact.  
Harry smiles, feeling the fabric on his legs, knowing that Louis had worn these previously. He had touched this same pair of underwear himself, on parts that were so sacred and private, and now Harry is wearing them. His heart swells at the thought, completely high and delighted, and then it it instantly falls when he’s realized what this means: Louis had undressed Harry and had seen him completely naked while being unconscious.

His insecurities get the best of him now, bringing a lovely blush to his cheeks again. He drops to the floor with a groan, covering his face with his hands and trying to decipher through his emotions. He almost feels like crying from embarrassment, and yet, at the same time he wants to scream and tell the entire world of the best night of his life.

That’ll be a story for his future kids, Harry thinks, the time when their Papa had undressed Daddy and Daddy was super embarrassed but then everything turned out okay because they eventually got married and adopted ten kids.

Yeah, Harry could definitely live with his embarrassment if it meant he’d get to marry Louis.

~~~

The weekend had gone much too slow for Harry’s liking. It dragged on hopelessly, little thoughts (okay, maybe big thoughts) of Louis consumed his mind to the point of delusion, and everyone in his family seemed to pick up on his odd behavior around the house. Like the way he’d smile randomly to himself when doing the dishes or the way he hums loudly at the dinner table, happily pushing his food around in little circles as if no one else is there, and the fact that he wouldn’t stop wearing that sweatshirt and sweatpants from when he woke up to when he went to bed.

Anne had certainly picked up on her son’s behavior. She saw it as soon as he walked in through the door that evening with the glazed look in his eyes and flushed cheeks. She cooed at him quietly, carefully watching her baby in awe as he swoons over his crush, wondering how the years had passed so fast, and how it’s possible that her one and only son is old enough to experience the rush of emotions when simply looking at someone.

She hasn’t approached him about his new found crush, and though she wants to know all the juicy details, she hasn’t pushed him into sharing quite yet. She knows eventually she’ll begin to pry at his secrets, knowing that her gossipy side will soon kick in, and it appears that it’ll happen sooner than later because even when she hints at Harry’s happiness, Harry never fully grasps what she’s saying. He’s too wrapped up in his own thoughts to even notice the knowing smiles, the small hints, or the happiness radiating from Anne. His mind is in heaven, enjoying the absolute bliss of God’s creation, God’s wonderful piece of artwork, God’s masterpiece. He thinks he must’ve done something right to even get the chance to meet such a beautiful person, inside and out.

When Monday finally rolls around, Harry was ecstatic for school. He combed his hair with his fingers hurriedly, playing around with his unruly curls for several minutes before giving up with a heavy groan and searching for his sister’s assistance. Gemma had to bite back a smile as she takes in his nice appearance; a green polo shirt with khakis, already knowing that he wants to impress a certain someone whom she still hasn’t met, nor weaseled out the name. Her mom wasn’t the only person who saw the change in Harry. He’s easier to read than a book.

Now, Harry stands at his locker, pretending to be interested in his psychology textbook, casually flipping through the pages to make it seem like he’s inconspicuous of the fact that Louis is standing across the hall in a huddle with his friends. He glances at the boy, completely unaware that Louis’ friend, Zayn, notices his nonchalant glance every time. Harry flips the page in the textbook, glossing over the bolded words and text, hoping that Louis hadn’t forgotten about him already. Certainly, he couldn’t forget Harry after what had happened, could he?

And then Harry freezes, because the memory suddenly becomes clearer in his mind and he realizes that Louis is probably embarrassed to be seen with the fifteen year old who passes out a lot. He doesn’t want to be associated with the sophomore boy who plays the trumpet and has ghostly pale skin and unmanageable hair, and a body of...well...a fifteen year old. He cringes at the thoughts, head shaking side to side as he frantically starts thrusting things back in his locker while zipping his backpack up with his other hand, and even though papers are flying left and right and his pencil drops from his pocket, he barely stops to collect everything.

He glances for the last time at the group behind him, noticing Zayn tapping Louis’ shoulder while shrugging at Harry. The younger boy gulps loudly before promptly shoving the papers into his backpack and hastily slamming his locker shut, the fact that Louis Tomlinson was walking towards him suddenly slowing the curly haired boy down, regardless of his previous internal embarrassment. He can feel his face start to turn red as he sees Louis smile at him, holding his hand out in a friendly wave. Harry hides his face, giving him a small smile in return, feeling overly giddy at the acknowledgement.

“What’s got you in a rush, Haz?”

Harry swallows thickly, trying to gain his composure at his newly acquired nickname. He shrugs his shoulders as if convincing himself and Louis that he wasn’t simply waiting for the senior to say ‘hi’ to him this morning.

“I don’t want to be late,” he says with an easy smile on his face. He meets Louis gaze, his breath faltering as he becomes absorbed in the blue irises, and once again he feels like he could stare into them for as long as Louis would let him. “I just really like psychology,” he adds, holding up his textbook before chuckling awkwardly and casting his eyes to the ground. If Louis wasn’t standing next to him right now, he’d probably smash his face against the hardcover. Maybe he’d forget everything that’s happened over the past few days.

Louis laughs and Harry instantly looks up to see his face as it wrinkles with laugh lines. He doesn’t care that Louis is laughing at him because he sounds like an absolute nerd. He doesn’t care that Louis is laughing at him because he wants to get to class early. He doesn’t even care that Louis is teasing him about God-knows-what right now because all Harry can focus on at the moment is that beautiful laugh that belongs to the beautiful boy. He stares at his lips as he talks, wondering what they feel like against his. He hopes he’ll get the chance to figure that out soon, and if his dreams are anything to go off of, he knows that they’ll be as sweet as their future together.

“Hey space cadet, come back to earth, yeah?” Louis laughs. “I’m starting to think I bore you to tears. Next time, maybe you should take control of the conversation so I know that you’re actually with me. Are you alright? Honestly, what’s going on in that pretty, little head of yours?”

The question at the end skips right past Harry. The only thing the young boy can focus on is Louis’ wonderful choice of words: next time; take control; me. And he definitely doesn’t mind thinking of those few words, especially if Louis is the one who said it. He could definitely live up to Louis’ request without any further hesitation.

He looks at Louis, seeing his raised eyebrows as if asking a question, and it’s then that Harry remembers the question the boy has asked.

“My head is pretty, isn’t it?” Harry blurts out, fluffing his hair in exaggeration. His breath stops for a moment, replaying his sentence in his head. Was he actually joking around with Louis Tomlinson--the senior extraordinaire? He meets Louis’ smiling eyes and oh god--Harry can’t believe the older boy’s hand is actually combing through Harry’s curls right now. He leans into the touch, resembling that of a small kitten.

“Not when it’s as big as your ego, hot stuff.”

“Heeeeyyy.”

They walk in silence for a few moments, Harry replaying their entire conversation through his head the whole time. His plan is starting to work, though he still doesn’t exactly have a specific plan in mind, only the end result--marrying Louis Tomlinson until they’re too old and too handicapped to do anything except argue over mindless things and recall their favorite memories together.

The boys stop outside Harry’s first hour, and Harry can’t stop from grinning at the fact that Louis has just walked him to his class--a proper boyfriend. He can now check the box off his ‘things me and Louis will do together’ list. The only thing he’s missing from the perfect moment is a kiss, but Harry’s not pushing his luck today.

He turns to face Louis who’s already looking at the younger boy, probably expecting a sincere ‘thank you’ for walking him to class, but the younger boy has a different idea in mind.

“So you think I’m some hot stuff, huh?” Harry questions in a teasingly seductive voice, raising his eyebrows in a suggestive way while taking a step closer to the football player.

Louis is stunned for a second, before he starts laughing so loud that it brings a rosy color to Harry’s face, simply knowing that he brought that out of the senior boy. Louis bumps his shoulder against Harry’s, slightly knocking him off his feet.

“You’re an idiot,” he laughs before he turns around to walk back the way he came.

And all Harry can do is smile at that, because he knows that in the near future, that same sentence will mean something entirely different for him and Louis. It’ll be their way of saying “I love you.”

~~~

Harry walks out the door with Liam, his trumpet case bumping into his legs with each step, and Harry thinks Liam’s lucky that he gets to leave his tuba at school. It’s the end of marching band practice, nearly dinner time now, and the sky is turning dark. Every Monday practice, the two boys always go out to dinner with each other. It’s always been that way. It’s ritual.

“I see you’ve gotten a little closer to number 28,” Liam smirks.

Harry instantly blushes from the comment, lowering his chin into the top of his hoodie to conceal his red cheeks. “I guess you could say that, yeah.”

Liam lightly shoves Harry, grinning as he does so. “Well come on, tell me all about him then.”

And Harry doesn’t even have to think twice before delving into personal details about the famous football player. He’s never shy around Liam, something he’s fortunate about, never afraid of sharing his most intimate facts, and Liam is the same way. It sickens Harry, most days, because the tuba player can get into some very, very detailed explanations about what he does with his boyfriend Niall.

Harry decides that when he eventually gets the pleasure to call Louis his boyfriend, he’s going to get back at Liam for all that shared information. He’ll make sure Liam will want to throw up after what he has to say.

As the two near the parking lot (Harry still chatting up a storm about Louis’ amazing eyes), Liam suddenly slaps a hand over the younger boy’s mouth, nodding to the right where a certain someone is leaning against his car with a pair of sweats cladding his body. Harry freezes, a small smile instantly spreading upon his face, before he looks at Liam with pleading eyes.

“Please, Liam? Can we reschedule our dinner for tomorrow?”

“I don’t know…” Liam teases. “We always go out to dinner after Monday practice.” Harry frowns, furrowing his eyebrows in the process. “I mean...is Louis even deserving of--”

“Of course he is, you twat.”

Liam laughs at Harry before waving once and walking in the opposite direction. Harry watches him as he leaves, mentally preparing himself for the second conversation in one day with Louis. He doesn’t know how he’s still breathing properly right now.

“Hey, hot stuff,” Louis teases the younger boy as he gets closer, and Harry certainly feels his face burn already. “Want a ride home?”

Harry decides to push the dirty thoughts out of his mind before responding to Louis with a quick nod of his head. “I expect one after you called me an idiot today.” He smirks at Louis, turning around to open the car door, leaving the older boy with a stunned expression before he shakes his head, running a hand through his hair. Harry can only smile to himself.

They spend the majority of the car ride with the radio blaring, singing to songs they don’t really know at the top of their lungs. They’re more or less screaming their made up lyrics, but Harry doesn’t mind--he likes the way Louis’ face turns red from yelling, and he laughs loudly when he turns off the music suddenly, leaving an annoyed expression on Louis’ face when he’s caught singing without the music behind him acting as a guide.

“That’s not nice, Harold. You have to sing now.”

“My name’s not, Harold.”

Louis snorts with a wave of his hand. “Minor details, Harold. Minor details. Now are you gonna sing or not?”

Harry smirks, his face growing warmer by the second. If he can just postpone his response for a few more seconds, he’ll be in his own driveway and he won’t have to sing for Louis. It’s not that he has a bad voice, it’s just that Louis sings so well, and the older boy even starred in the musical last year. It’s not weird to feel a little insecure and intimidated by the senior.

“I’m thinking not,” he responds.

“I’ll make you sing eventually.”  
“I’ll make you sing eventually,” Harry mocks under his breath, but Louis still hears him and he laughs.

When they make it to Harry’s house, they stare at each other, not saying a word, just gazing into each other’s eyes. Harry squirms under Louis’ stare, bouncing his leg up and down with anxiety.

He clears his throat awkwardly, breaking the gaze. “Thank you for the ride,” the younger boy says as he climbs out of the car. “I’ll see you around?”

Louis shakes his head and Harry’s heart stops beating from rejection, but then suddenly Louis is getting out of his car and walking around to wrap his arm around Harry’s waist, and Harry doesn’t even know how to react to all of this. His head swarms with confusion, and his heart melts with admiration, and his eyes bleed with his tears of happiness.

“Trying to get rid of me, Styles? What kind of chauffeur would I be if I didn’t walk you up to your front door?”

Harry laughs once, scooting closer to Louis subconsciously. He inhales his scent, focusing on Louis’ fingertips that are touching his stomach. “A shitty one,” Harry offers.

The younger boy can feel the rumble of laughter and vibrations in Louis’ chest. The senior pulls him closer to his side. “Then I’m glad I met your expectations. I wouldn’t want to smell like shit.”

“You smell anyway,” Harry says with a laugh.

“Do not!”

“Do too!”

Louis pulls away from Harry, both boys trying to frown at each other in some kind of unspoken contest, but they both can’t help the quirk of a smile that spreads across their faces.

Harry can feel himself closing the distance between them, and he can feel Louis’ breath on his cheek, and he can’t see anything except Louis in front of him.

And then the light flickers on behind them, jolting them both out of their moment. The front door opens and Anne’s head pops out with a surprised expression when she sees Louis standing beside Harry. Both boys have flushed cheeks and wide eyes, and Harry just wants to dig a ditch and live there for the rest of his life...with Louis, of course...and their twelve children.

“Oh!” Anne exclaims flustered. “I’m sorry! Um...I just heard something out here...and...I’m sorry.” She turns her attention to her son, raising her eyebrows in an act of apology. “We’re having dinner now. Would you like to invite your friend to stay?”

 

~~~

 

Harry stays quiet for the entire dinner, only speaking when referred to or to say ‘please’ and ‘thank you’. He keeps his eyes on his dinner plate, knowing that his mom and sister are both giving him knowing looks, and just the mere thought of it brings a blush to his cheeks.

“This is a wonderful meal, Anne. It’s absolutely delicious.”

Anne gushes at Louis, stopping to smile at her son who attempts to keep the smile off his face. Harry shifts in his seat uncomfortably, waiting for something embarrassing to happen to him. He knows something is bound to happen--he’ll somehow manage to embarrass himself, like spilling his water down the front of his shirt and pants.

“So…” Gemma says, breaking the comfortable silence. Harry snaps his eyes in her direction. He knows that tone of voice, and he doesn’t like the sound of it. “You’re the one who took care of Harry last Friday when he passed out?”

Louis nods his head. “Yeah. I took him back to my house and let him rest. My mom’s a nurse.”

Gemma smiles, fiddling with the fork in her hand before smirking at Harry beside her. The younger boy bites his lip, wondering what she’s getting at. “That sweatshirt that he was wearing...is that yours?”

And shit--now Harry knows where his sister is going with this. He glares at her, trying to get her to shut up, but she waves him off with a flick of her hand, patting his knee teasingly.

“Oh yeah...I was wondering where that went. I forgot I lent it to him,” Louis says, glancing at Harry who keeps his glare on Gemma.

Gemma fakes a gasp. “Harry! You mean to tell me that you haven’t given it back to this poor boy yet?”

“I was going to,” Harry mumbles. “I just...forgot.”

Gemma laughs loudly, turning to face Louis while pinning Harry’s hands to his side with one hand, the other clasping around his mouth. He wiggles in her grip, desperately trying to free himself while yelling muffled pleas to his sister.

“He’s been wearing your sweatshirt and sweatpants for the past few days--every single chance he can get, he’s wearing them. He likes you. He really likes you.”

The room falls silent. Harry can feel his mom, step dad, Louis, and Gemma all staring at him, waiting for him to say something--maybe to deny the statement, maybe to agree--he’s unsure, but all he knows is that he feels like crying right now, and Louis has yet to say anything about the confession.

Harry shoves away from the kitchen table, swallowing back the hole in his throat as the room begins to grow warmer. He can see his future with Louis crumbling. The little house with the white picket fence in the front is fading from his dreams. The loud echoes from his future children are dying out. The future dog can no longer be seen. Louis and Harry sitting in a rocking chair, all old and gray and close to dying--that memory is broken--shattered. Everything is falling apart.

“That’s good news for me then...because I really like Harry, too.”

And slowly the house with the white picket fence, the fifteen children, the dog, and the old married couple begin to shine again in Harry’s vision. His dreams revolving around the boy begin to overtake his immediate senses.

He can see himself going on his first date with Louis. He can see himself moving into an apartment with Louis. He can see himself at the altar with Louis. He can smell the scent of his new house with Louis. He can smell the aftershave he’ll share with Louis. He can hear the whispers he’ll say to Louis and the sound of sleeping beside Louis. He can feel Louis’ arms wrap around him, kissing him softly on the side of his forehead, his lips so soft and warm against his skin, and this time--it’s not even a dream because it’s all happening in the middle of Harry’s kitchen where his mom, sister, and step dad are still sitting with smiles plastered on their faces and Harry can’t stop the giggling, and Louis can’t stop the butterflies.

“I was worried that you didn’t like me that way,” Louis whispers in Harry’s ear.

Harry smiles, biting his bottom lip. “You’re an idiot.”

“I know.”

And Harry thinks this was his plan all along: letting fate take control. He doesn’t know how it happened, and he doesn’t know why it happened, but that’s the beauty of his plan--the whole thing is still a mystery, left to be discovered by only him and Louis.

And there’s no doubt in his mind that he will definitely retell the tale to everyone that he comes across--Louis, his twenty children, his dog, his neighbors, his grandchildren, random strangers on the street--until they all know the story themselves by heart--or maybe until Harry simply can’t speak anymore. Because he loves Louis, and that’s all that really matters.

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi to me on [tumblr!](http://theymatch-larry.tumblr.com/)  
> 


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